Just Another Tired Mommy

I'm gonna need to up my game. Many of you could run over me with your car and not know it was me until I wrote about you on my blog. This said, I really need to start being funny. Or at least work on not misspelling every other word. In my defense, I'm usually NOT misspelling them--I'm usually typing like an idiot and THAT'S why there are so many mistakes. because THAT'S better... Anyway, I feel like this is similar to hosting strangers in your home. You don't unbutton your top button after dinner and let one (and by "one" I mean ANYTHING) go with just ANYONE in the room (unless you [hypothetically] had two hysterectomies and weird things have happened to you ever since. HYPOTHETICALLY... You don't take your socks off at the table, burp while talking or clean food out of your cleavage. Not for strangers. THOSE are luxuries we [usually--at least those of us with DECORUM. It's a word.) afford to those whom we love. I treat my blog like a family dinner. I unbutton my pants, scratch myself and burp the alphabet--forgetting that I have guests. People who did NOT grow up with me. People who did NOT go to school with me. People who did NOT work with me, birth me OR live with me. People who do NOT have to love me regardless of how disgusting I am. People who do NOT want to hear about my every step, my gnarly chin hairs or my...noisy body. I REALLY should "behave" for them. Unfortunately, I am too tired to "behave--" for ANYONE. I've had a LIFETIME of behaving (YES I HAVE, MOM!) and I feel done with it. It is so much work! Plus, my mother USED to warn me, "What would you do if NONNIE (my grandmother) found out about that?" and it would keep me in line because I love that woman more than anything and never would want to disappoint her. Unfortunately, she died in 2001, so my mother doesn't use that anymore (considering it would be horrifying and disturbing to do so). I, however, often think about her and my uncle who died on Thanksgiving in 2006--(ANOTHER one of my favorite people) and think, "Oh DEAR GOD I hope they were at a Bingo tournament up there when I did THAT!" because it horrifies me to think that they can see EVERYTHING that I do now and I'm SO MUCH WORSE than I was when they were alive. ANYWAY...this leads me to a memory of my uncle when I was in high school. He was the ONLY person I wanted to please more than my grandmother. My aunt was right up there as well--she DID marry my uncle and make it possible for him to actually BECOME my uncle--PLUS she did EVERYTHING for me. Not just me--she did EVERYTHING for EVERYONE--still does. WELL, my parents went out of town my senior year of high school and left me with my aunt and uncle--a good decision on their part, considering how much I respected the two of them. The problem with respect is, it isn't fear. I FEARED my parents, but RESPECTED my aunt and uncle. SO...when friends of mine were going over the bridge to go "clubbing" (is THAT still a thing? I'M SO OLD!) in Canada on the SAME night I was supposed to work on a project with my friend, Sue (who, now that I think about it, probably decided that we WEREN'T friends after I "used" her for this...excursion), I thought it was PERFECT timing! After all, WHAT could go wrong? These words have passed through the brains of every teenager--well before Tom Cruise danced across the floor in his underwear and destroyed a Porsche when HIS parents left him alone. And disaster usually follows, which was the case for me. The sad thing for anyone reading this is, I DO NOT remember HOW I got caught or WHAT happened (which maybe would have made this story ever-so-slightly-interesting). I think I was maybe late and my aunt called Sue's house and when I wasn't there (after SHE completed the entire project ALONE--what a jerk I was, right?!)--game off for me. I DO remember lying to them (STILL sticking to my "We were at the library" story) and my uncle yelling (not a REAL yell--the kind of "yell" that tweens and teens claim to hear when they are being scolded or reprimanded for something that they CLEARLY did wrong!) at me, telling me I was a punk for lying to them. HE WAS SO RIGHT (though punk was not harsh enough!), though at the time I'm pretty sure I thought, "I can't believe HE'S like everyone else--it's all THEIR fault for not being cool!" Anyway, I metntioned it to him years later and he said [apologetically for some reason!) he didn't remember it. Why would he? I would try to forget it, too if I ever wanted to welcome the child into my home again! Of all the punishments and harsh words I had and heard throughout my life, that one sentence had the most impact on me. My uncle demanded arespect without DEMANDING respect. He treated everyone equally--REALLY equally and gave EVERYONE a chance. When I got in trouble at home it was just another day of getting in trouble, but upsetting my uncle--THAT was bad. Because he was RARELY upset. It was like you had to TRY to make him upset--to REALLY work on it until he broke and to think that I was the one who did it--devastating. He was Bruce Willis circa David Addison-1980's-Moonlighting--"Do bears bare? Do bees be?" and "Whaddyamean, whaddoImean?" and had me smiling every time I spoke with him. And he spoke WITH you--not AT you, which is remarkably difficult for an adult to do with a child. That is one of the many reasons I wish he could be here with me--to teach me HOW to be that person, because I have to say, the lunacy I call motherhood is REALLY paling in comparison! We named my son (his middle name at least) after my uncle (and his grandfather), not only to honor his memory, but to hopefully (through a name?) instill some of the integrity, humor and respect that came with it. So far, we have a LITTLE more work to do on that--I'm not gonna lie! My oldest daughter also has a part of his name and my youngest, Addison, has his Moonlighting character's name. That one wasn't on purpose, but I was reflecting on how she was the only one who DIDN'T have some form of my uncle's name when my husband noted the coincidence which REALLy made me happy. I like to think my uncle was up there (on a non-Bingo day) pointing us in the direction of Addison on DAY THREE when she still remained nameless. I know the nurses were ready to name her FOR us, so some intervention was needed!